


A Cell, Newgate

by AHaresBreath



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Disease, M/M, Prison, Vampire!Arthur, artist!Merlin, darkish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHaresBreath/pseuds/AHaresBreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lord Arthur pays a visit to a condemned man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cell, Newgate

When Lord Arthur found his artist again it was in a dark cell in a corner of Newgate. He sat huddled on his low pallet, curly head resting on bony knees, so still he might already have been taken, until a violent shiver would rack his body, leaving it trembling for some minutes until the deathly stillness took him again. Or he might be shaken by wheezing, his wet lungs too tired to properly cough, sucking in just enough air for his shaking to subside. How long Arthur watched him he did not know but at length he stepped forward and laid his hand on the dark head, letting it slide down one hollow cheek to cup his jaw as the man looked up.

His skin was heated and his eyes struggled to focus on Arthur's face.

" _Angelus domini..._ " It was barely more than a croak. "Is it time?"

Arthur crouched before him, still holding his face, stroking, soothing.

"Not yet my sweet, they will come for you in the morning, but I bring you the prospect of relief."

The dark eyes sharpened, and there was calculation there, and longing.

"I did not ask for a priest. Leave me."

"Do you not wish for forgiveness child?"

"I do not." Merlin spat, glaring through his watery eyes.

"What was your crime then?" 

Merlin sneered. "Do you not know? Do you not recognise this depraved face?"

"Humour me." Arthur said softly.

Merlin raised his eyes challengingly. "Deviancy, public indecency, perversion of youth. Buggery." He held Arthur's gaze but the flush on his cheeks darkened and spread with that last word.

"And were you guilty?"

He thought for a moment, indecision making him look younger.

"Yes and no." He shrugged.

"Howso?"

"There was a lad, who sometimes worked for me, they paid him to lie."

"But you had not taken him to bed?"

Merlin's eyes burned. "I promise you if I had taken him to bed he would not have given me up so cheaply."

"Then why did he lie?" Arthur asked softly.

He shrugged. "He got his girl in trouble, needed the money, I don't begrudge him... I wouldn't expect a gentleman such as yourself to understand the things people do when they're desperate." He fixed Arthur with an accusing eye, defending the friend who had sent him to the noose.

"But there were others?"

"Oh yes Father, many others, mea _maxima_ culpa." His smirk was encouraging, it transported Arthur back to the bars and backrooms where he had watched his radiant artist holding court.

"But you will not ask for absolution? You may regret that as you stand at the gallows tomorrow."

The prisoner sighed. "If I do then that is my own affair... Why are you here? You are clearly no priest and could not offer absolution even if I required it, yet you spoke of relief... I have no coin for opium, or even gin, they took everything. Even my coat, which I would gladly have traded for a taste of oblivion..."

"That is not what I would ask of you." Arthur said softly, smoothing his cool hand over burning cheeks, his eyes dropped a little and his thumb found cracked lips.

"A-ha," Merlin chuckled and it turned into a spluttering cough. "You have strange tastes, sir, if that is what you're after. You'll find sewer rats with prettier mouths than mine these days..."

"I think not," said Arthur with a smile. "You are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Merlin laughed again, which turned into a sob, and again into a cough.

"Did you just come here to mock me, my lord?" He sneered, with more bite than one would expect from one in his condition. He shifted to the floor in front of Arthur, urging him to sit and wincing as his knees hit the cold stone floor. "Go on then, I haven't eaten in days, mayhaps your noble seed will sustain me through tomorrow's festivities." He clumsily unbuttoned Arthur's breeches and pulled out his already stiff prick.

"I fear you will be disappointed." Arthur whispered, running a hand through the greasy tangle in front of him.

"I fear I often am," the other snapped back before setting hungrily about the pale flesh. His mouth was unnaturally hot from the fever, sloppy but with a sense of underlying skill, Arthur dearly wished he could give him what he strove for, the spurt of liquid victory, but such was beyond him.

Eventually Merlin drew away, coughing and wiping his mouth. He looked endearingly puzzled. 

"Nothing," he murmured. "Not a drop." He darted forward and wedged his tongue into Arthur's slit, making him gasp and thrust forwards. "And yet you feel it. This is too much for my addled mind... And my aching jaw." Exhausted, he crawled back on to the pallet behind where Arthur perched and lay on his side, breathing heavily while Arthur tucked himself away.

"An acquaintance of mine," he continued when he had caught his breath, "had a phallus he'd made of the finest marble, quite lifelike and polished to an exquisite sheen… When one took it in one's mouth it was the most extraordinary sensation..." He took Arthur's hand and stroked it. "I know my skin is fevered, but yours is unnaturally cold... And yet it is most definitely flesh." He bit softly into the back of Arthur's hand, feeling the give.

"You are a phantom of the mind," he said with a sigh, "A composite of my thoughts and experiences, and my dreams. It explains your looks."

"How do I look?" Arthur couldn't help the pleased feeling from reaching his face.

"Smug, mostly, at the moment." He grinned, brokenly, then sighed. "But otherwise, like a portrait I always felt I should paint but could never start, it was a face I saw many times over the years, or thought I did, mostly through a haze of drink and smoke, but whenever I tried to make it solid my hands betrayed me. And now here you are, the face of an angel pasted crudely onto the hallucination of a condemned man. And they took my ink and parchment..."

Arthur lifted Merlin's head and cradled it on his lap. "I wanted you to paint me, it's why I sought you out, but I could never bring myself to approach you."

"Why not? I wanted you to."

"It was too soon, you had too much to live for, my love."

"And now that I have nothing?" It was a bitter request and Arthur's heart clenched.

"Now I can offer you everything that I am."

"Why not before?" The artist glared angrily up at Arthur, "I could have painted you when my hands were steady and my vision clear... I had a beautiful studio by the river, it stank but the light was... I could... You would have..." He choked on a sob and turned his face into Arthur's lap.

"You could not have painted me in the sunlight-"

"I would _only_ paint you in the sunlight." He cut across, seething, before choking again. Arthur saw flecks of blood on his linen breeches.

He soothed Merlin's back and chest through his fit and wiped tears away from his cheeks.

When he had calmed Arthur bent to kiss his cheek.

"This is my proposal." He whispered into his ear. "I can ease your sickness and, if you'll allow me, I'll take you away from here to a place where you can rest and we may become better acquainted. If you choose you can stay with me forever, healthy and strong. But there is a price." He hushed Merlin as he went to speak. "If the price is too high you can live out your days wherever you wish, with whatever comfort I can give you. But that decision will come later, when you know the facts. For now, will you come with me?"

Merlin looked up into his eyes, frown still in place, unused as he was to accepting aid, but he nodded, and Arthur bit down on his thumb and fed it between the dry, crusty lips, suckling him like an infant until his colour evened out and his breathing eased. Then Arthur gathered him into his arms and carried him out of that place of horrors.

 

\- - - - - - - 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this over a year ago and it was going to be epic in an Anne Rice style (well epic for me being about 5000 words at a push), but since that doesn't appear to be happening I shall post it as a complete work. I do have a bit more than this but it seemed this was a good place to cut it off, less is more and all that...


End file.
